Epiphany Revisited
by samaryley
Summary: Sidefic to Epiphany. This time the events are seen through Darry's eyes. There is nothing easy about going from college kid to parent in a split second.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story parallels my other story, Epiphany, but it is narrated from Darry's point of view rather than Scout's. You might want to read epiphany before this, but it should still be able to stand alone if you don't. As I wrote epiphany I felt like I wanted Darry to be able to have a voice too, so I decided to write a parallel story from his POV. I considered switching POV within the story but felt it would be too disjointed. So I decided to tell the whole story again from Darry's side.**

**I own no characters from the book. Thanks for the loan, S.E. Hinton!**

I don't think I ever had any idea how quickly a life could change. One minute I was in college, living the life of a college freshman, playing on the football team, and the next minute everything was turned completely upside down. It still seems like a movie, a documentary of someone else's life when I think about it, how in just one night my family was changed forever.

__________

It was a Thursday night, October second, my sister Scout's twelfth birthday, which also happened to be the day before my parents' anniversary. We were having a special birthday dinner for my sister, and my parents had plans to go out after dinner. On their actual anniversary, Friday, I had a football game. They never missed one of my games. I was a freshman wide receiver at the University of Tulsa, following in the footsteps of my dad. He said I was already better, as a freshman, than he ever was, but from what I hear, he was pretty good. He had made conference all-star his junior and senior years. Usually if I had a game the whole family showed up; my brothers and sister as well as all of my brothers' friends who always were hanging around. It was kind of cool, like having my own fan club.

Besides my family, there was always a horde of girls who hung around the games, seemingly determined to get their very own football-player boyfriend. Honestly they just never seemed sincere to me. They acted like they wanted to be with me just because I was on the team – they never seemed to really care who I really was or what I was all about. At least my high school girlfriends had cared enough to get to know me. So I never went out with them. Usually after my games I would just come home and talk with Dad and my brother Pony about how it had gone. As for my other brother Soda, he usually had hardly even seen the game – he spent most of the time flirting with those very girls I refused to ask out. He didn't have so much luck, though – I guess college girls wouldn't lower themselves to the level of dating high-school boys.

It was funny watching my family at my games. My Mom and Dad sat in the reserved section with the other players' families, trustees, and other people a lot more rich than we were. Soda usually took off after the girls, and Ponyboy usually watched the game studiously, working his way through a pack of cigarettes. Scout was funny; she can't sit still. She was everywhere, checking out the cheerleaders, running up and down the sidelines, hanging out with her friend and our neighbor Ben. She was cute- the other guys little brothers and sisters liked her and were friendly toward her. There was nothing not to like about anybody in my family, really, I guess.

_______________________

Scout was usually the last one to wake up each morning. Generally my brothers and I would all be awake and our Mom was already fixing breakfast when she would finally send one of us in to wake her up. We were brutal, as older brothers usually are – we would pounce on her, scare her awake, and tickle her into consciousness. I don't know why we felt we had to torture her – she woke us up occasionally and was usually gentle about it, but… well, we gave her a hard time. On her birthday, though, our Dad went in to wake her up. There was no screaming, as there usually was when one of us awakened her to tickling, but there was laughing. Scout came out to breakfast looking happier than I could remember seeing her in a while. She had been put up a grade and was having a hard time adjusting – mostly, I think, to not being in the same grade anymore as Ben, her human security blanket. They had been inseparable since they were kids. As Scout's brother, Ben was like an extra pair of eyes for me … I completely appreciated him, because he looked out for Scout as well as any of her actual brothers did. She counted on him, and since being promoted up a grade due to her academics, she was missing him something awful. I think she felt like getting put up a grade was like a punishment for being smart. Both she and Pony were sharp as tacks. Pony had been promoted too. As for Soda, School was not his thing, and his grades pretty accurately reflected that.

I went to classes and practice, but came straight home. Birthdays were a big deal in our family. I had memories of my brothers being little – but as for Scout, I actually remembered her being born. I was seven, in second grade, when Dad called with the news. We were staying at home with our neighbor, Mrs. Cummings (Ben's mom) watching us. The funny thing is, Ben himself was just about three months old when Scout was born. I remember standing by the phone, amazed by Ben, when Mrs. Cummings answered the phone, him in her arms.

"Hello?" She listened on the other end.

"Oh, Darrel, that is great! Congratulations!" A pause. "Of course!"

She turned to me.

"Darry, it's your dad." She handed the phone to me.

"Hello?"

"Darry"

It _was_ my Dad.

"Daddy? Is Mommy OK?" Last time I had seen her she had not been so happy about being in labor.

"She's great, baby. And you have a baby sister now."

"A sister?" That was something I was totally not prepared for. Everybody had thought we were going to have another boy, including me.

"That's right, Darry, Samantha Scout, your new sister. Scout."

I was still shocked. "Scout? She's a girl?" Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, buddy. You have a little sister."

I was so surprised. It had seemed like my parents had been resigned to having only boys. The pride on their faces when they brought her home had been priceless. And we had all handled her with kid gloves, until she started to get older and we realized girls could be pretty tough, too. She did a lot of biting in those early years, just to show us who was boss.

And here she was, twelve. I came home from practice and she and I went out into the backyard to play catch. She didn't really get or care about the actual rules of football… she always just wanted to play catch. I didn't mind - I had been showing her how to throw for a long time and she knew how to hit a target and almost always put the ball exactly where I wanted it. She was actually better at throwing catch practice than some of the guys on the team. Then we would turn it around and she would crack me up, the way she would dive for the ball and put up with all of the crash landings she endured. For a girl she was real tough. But I guess that is inevitable, growing up getting roughed up by three older brothers.

Once we went inside, she stayed in the kitchen with our mom fixing dinner while I stayed out in the living room with my dad and brothers. Dad was really into the logistics of my team – as a former player, he liked to know about all the plays we had running. We were still talking about my game the next night, as Pony and Soda fought over a poker game, when Mom called us for Scout's birthday dinner.

She was so funny. She blushed like crazy when we sang happy birthday. For sure, she is used to a lot of noise, but she turned red like a Carribean sunset when all eyes in our family were on her. Usually she is kinda quiet, not so much shy but just observant, listening and taking in what's happening around her. All I could think about was her as a tiny little pink bundle coming home from the hospital, all swaddled up. And now she was blowing out the candles, looking so much like a miniature copy of my mom. Her dark hair, blue eyes – she looked just like mom, and I was sure she would grow to be a beauty just like her. I supposed in a few years my brothers and I would be sitting in our living room intimidating the crap out of some guy who had come to pick her up for a date.

Finally it was time for our parents to go out – god knows, they deserved a night out – and they tucked Scout in as my brothers and I watched some shoot-em-up western on TV. I could gear them tucking her in, and eventually they came into the living room.

"Pony, Soda, you should get to bed soon too," they said. "Darry, you don't have to wait up for us, honey. We might be late."

"I won't," I said. I had an early class the next day. Mom and Dad hugged us all goodbye and headed out. After a few hours I sent Pony and Soda off to bed and headed in to check on Scout. Habit, I guess, from so many years of babysitting her.

________________________

I quietly opened her door. She was curled up in a ball at the head of her bed. She slept like a cat. Yet somehow, by the morning, she was always completely tangled in her covers. That's why she was so easy to torment in the morning – she was basically imprisoned in her own sheets.

"Dar…" she mumbled. I don't know how she knew it was me.

"Hey, birthday girl… Go to sleep!" I said, as I went over to shut her window. A chilly wind was coming in.

"Thanks… I was cold but I didn't know it yet," she said. I knew she was still half asleep, and I laughed softly. Again I thought of that little pink bundle, and how life goes by so fast.

"Sleep tight Scout."

"'kay. 'Night." She turned and snuggled into the pillow. I looked at her for a minute, wishing time would slow down a little. I needed a little more time before those boyfriends started showing up on the doorstep.

"'Night." I shut the door behind me.

**A/N: Please review. Should I keep going with Darry's POV? The first chapter is always the hardest!**


	2. Chapter 2

I sat up in bed. Had that been the doorbell? Christ, what time was it? I grabbed the clock and flipped on the light. 2:38? Who the hell rings our doorbell at that time in the morning? The damn door is open; any of our friends know that they can just come in and crash on the couch. I was convincing myself that I imagined it when the doorbell rang again.

So help me, if this is Soda's friend Steve or our buddy Two-Bit all liquored up and thinking they're funny I'll kill them, I thought. Soda had gone out for about an hour with Steve after my parents had gone out and Steve had seemed fine when they came back… Now that I was awake I had to check it out, though.

"Shit," I muttered, as I shuffled across the floor to the door, pulling on a t-shirt. It didn't look like anyone else was getting up, which was weird since my parents' room was at the front of the house.

I could hear Soda and Pony talking as I walked by their door.

Now there was knocking at the door.

"Coming!" A little goddamn patience should be in order when you ring someone's bell at two in the morning, I thought.

I flipped on the outside light and opened the door, surprised to see two cops standing on the front porch.

"Mr. Curtis?" The officer in front was clearly the senior officer, the kid behind him looked hardly older than Soda, definitely a rookie.

"I'm Darrel Curtis, Junior," I said.

"You're who we are looking for," the cop said. I realized that even this senior cop was looking pretty uncomfortable.

"What's this all about?" I asked. It was sinking in that my parents had not gotten up. This had to involve them, whatever it was.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news." I didn't like how this was going.

______________________

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this," The officer started, "but there was an automobile accident tonight involving your parents."

I stared. Fear rose in my body like a wave.

"They didn't survive. They were declared dead on scene." The wave crashed right down on top of me, dragging me under. My breath was knocked clear out of me.

The cop was looking through me. I'm sure he had to – how could you actually look someone in the eyes when you were breaking their heart?

"How?" Was all I could manage.

They were hit by a drunk driver," he said. Suddenly he became human for a second. "This is never easy, Mr. Curtis, but in this case I knew them personally. I worked with your dad on the scholarship committee at the high school. They were both very highly respected. Great people."

I had no words. The cop finally looked at me and immediately seemed to regret it, looking away quickly. Then, finally, he added

"I'm very sorry for your loss."

"Are you sure?" I couldn't believe it was true, that this was happening.

"Yes, sir. I'm very sorry." Then he added,

"Social services have been called. They'll be coming for the minors."

"What? NO." They had another thing coming if they thought they were taking my brothers and sister anywhere. When I had turned eighteen my parents had sat down with me to go over their will, rewriting it now that I was an adult. My dad was the kind of guy who slept better at night knowing that the loose ends were tied up.

"Nobody is taking them. I'm nineteen. I'm the legal guardian! My parents had a will!" I just stared at him. I didn't care if he had a badge, a gun, a warrant, whatever. There was no way anybody was going to come and take away my siblings in the middle of the night, especially if what this cop said was true, that our parents were dead. There was just no way. They would have to kill me first.

"DARRY??!" I was startled to hear Scout's voice in the hallway behind me. Turning around, I was surprised to see not just her, but Pony and Soda too, all three standing in the hallway. It was clear from their expressions that they had heard the cop.

"Scout…" I started, thinking I would ask her to go to her room, then realizing she didn't look capable of going anywhere on her own. She looked like she might fall over, but was holding on to the doorframe. I didn't want to give in to that cop, to cede my position, so I appealed to Soda.

.

"Soda…can you…" I motioned to him to go to Scout, and he started toward her.

"Scout…" Soda called her over. "Come with me, baby." She actually backed away from him, which was telling of her confusion. Scout loved Soda to death.

"Scout, go with Soda!" I didn't really mean to, but I yelled at her. I saw her eyes widen. I couldn't really remember ever yelling at her like that before. But I needed her to let Soda hold onto her, because I couldn't.

Soda looked pretty bad himself, but he moved over toward Scout and out of the corner of my eye I saw her let go of the doorframe and wrap her arms around him. He would take care of her, for now.

I turned to the cops. "Are they coming for them now?"

"No sir, not yet. They're waiting on the paperwork"

"Tell them not to bother. Everybody is staying here. I know for a fact that I am the legal guardian. It's in the will." I had never spoken to cops, or any authority figure, like this, but I knew I was right. They couldn't take them. I was not going to back down.

"Soda, Pony, and Scout, go into my bedroom and wait." I didn't turn around, I was still locking gazes with the cop. I felt like if I let my guard down for a second suddenly those two cops would rush past me, grab my brothers and sister and run off. After a moment's hesitation I heard the three of them move away down the hallway, though I think I saw that Soda had to carry Scout. I'm sure they were baffled by the command – for the past year they had been ordered to stay out of my room, but I just wanted them as far away as possible from this confrontation. I didn't know what was going to happen but, for sure, Scout and Ponyboy didn't need to see or hear it if it turned ugly. My bedroom was at the complete opposite side of the house, so that's where I sent them.

"We don't make up the rules about this kind of thing, Mr. Curtis," the cop said when they had gone. "This is all standard procedure where minors are involved."

"Well I am assuming it is _not_ standard procedure to disregard the directions in a legal document, such as a will. I'm telling you right now, I am NOT a minor, and I am the legal guardian of my brothers and sisters in case of something like this. I sat with my parents in front of a notary as they wrote it in their will."

"The involvement now is no longer with our agency," the cop said. "It's a social services matter now."

"Well when you are gone, this door is getting locked and unless they plan on breaking the door down and killing me to take them, these kids are staying in their home, with me."

"Nobody's going to be doing any killing," the cop said. "But you might want to consider what you are taking upon yourself. Three kids are no walk in the park."

I thought I might kill him right there. "You must not be the oldest in your family," I said, pointedly.

"No, actually, I'm an only child," he said.

"Well, that figures," I said. "That's your loss." I was shocked at myself at how I was talking to a cop. In the situation, I wondered whether my Dad would have been angry or proud. Guess I would never know. I know he would want me to do whatever it took to take care of the boys and Scout, though.

"Is there anything else?" I asked.

"No, just our condolences," the cop said.

"I don't care about your condolences, that does nothing for me right now. Just tell Social Services to back off, if you're really feeling all that bad."

"I'll see what I can do." The cop actually looked like he might have meant it. Both cops turned and headed back to their cruiser.

I closed the door, and for the first time in my memory, turned the deadbolt.

_____________

I walked down the hall and stood outside the door for a moment. I would have given anything at that moment to not have to go in and report to my siblings about what had just happened, but at the same time I needed to be in that room with them. It was very clear to me then that we had to stick together, pull together as a family unit more than ever or we were never going to weather this. Our parents had been our rock, our anchor, and to try and hold each other together without them was going to be a huge challenge. Standing outside my door, preparing to face them with the most devastating news of our lives, I vowed to myself to try to be for them at least a small piece of what our parents had been for us.

I opened the door to see them all crying on my bed. Scout was bawling like a baby; Soda and Pony were trying to hold it together but failing miserably. I was afraid I would cry too if I looked at them so I sat at the end of the bed and faced the wall.

"Mom and Dad were killed in a car crash tonight."

Nobody answered. What the hell could they say, really…

"They want to split us up. They don't think I can take care of you."

"No, Darry. You told them no, right?" I was shocked to hear Pony's voice. He is usually the one who has to think about everything for days before he has a comment.

I suddenly felt brave enough to hold it together so I turned around. "Legally, you can stay with me. I know it. Dad talked to me about it in case… in case something like this ever happened."

Suddenly it occurred to me how incredibly smart my Dad had been to prepare for this very scenario. God knows, without the legal documentation, there was no way on God's green Earth the state of Oklahoma was going to let three little kids stay with their nineteen year old brother. But due to my parents' covering all the bases, the law was on my side.

"So its OK… they won't split us up?" This time it was Soda. He looked completely despondent.

"It's up to you." I told them. "You guys decide. Whatever you three want will happen. I'll make it happen." Maybe it was arrogant of me to think they would want to stay with me. God knows; I was no parent. If they stayed with me, it was gonna be a rough ride, trial by fire on my part.

Scout spoke up through her tears first. "I want to stay, Darry," she said, sobbing. "With you. Here."

"How could you even ask us, Darry? We stay together. No matter what."I had never seen Soda cry like he was.

Pony said nothing.

"Pony?" I asked

.

"What?" Pony was out in space, as usual. We are definitely the most different of everyone in the family. It wouldn't have surprised me if he had been thinking about who else he could live with besides me. We had a lot of trouble understanding each other.

"With Mom and Dad gone, do you want me to take care of you or someone else?" I looked right at Pony. I wanted him to be honest. I had forgotten how green his eyes were.

Pony stared back at me. I couldn't remember the last time we had looked each other in the eyes. I wondered if he had forgotten what my eyes looked like, too.

"You." He was still crying. "I want us to stay together."

I took a deep breath and addressed my new charges. "Look, nothing has to happen tonight. You can think about it and change your mind." I stood up.

Suddenly Scout jumped up and stood on the bed, at my eye level. She was still so little, for twelve. "I know Darry. I know now. I want to stay with you. I'm not going to change my mind."

It took everything I had not to cry, but staring at my kid sister I knew that more than ever, now was the time that she needed me to be strong.

"Me too." Pony and Soda said almost at the same time.

I started to say something but stopped short, knowing that I needed another second to reel my emotions in so I wouldn't cry. Finally I spoke.

"Everything is gonna change. You guys know that, right?" I wanted to be honest with them. I had no idea what I was doing. "Nothing's gonna be the same."

"But we'll still be together," Soda said.

"We'll be together," I said. Soda was right, that was the most important thing. I sat Scout down with me on the bed and leaned back, pulling her with me and letting her lean on my chest. In no time at all, my shirt was soaked through with her tears. My heart ached for her, God, as terrible as this was for all of us she was really still just a kid. Ponyboy didn't seem in much better shape. Even if he was older than she was, in some ways he seemed more immature to me. Soda, only sixteen, was going to have to grow up fast, because there was no way I would be able to do this alone.

I felt Scout fall asleep against me and slid her down onto the bed. Pony was shaking with tears and I rubbed his back, whispering that everything would be OK. Even Soda needed some comfort, and I held onto his hand as he drifted off.

As finally the three of them fell asleep I felt my eyes fill up.

"Let me be strong, for them," I prayed, as I finally closed my eyes.

**A/N: I just checked my email and was SO HAPPY to have 11 messages about my stories. I appreciate the reviews SO much. Fanfiction tells you how many people are reading but it is very baffling when you know people are reading but nobody reviews! I admit, before I submitted work, I was guilty of reading and not reviewing but now that I know how much it means I encourage you to drop a line when you like what you read (to anyone, not just me!) Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

I swear, my eyes opened the second the first light of day crept into my bedroom. It felt like my eyes had just closed the very second before. I had hoped to awaken to find that the events of the past night had never happened; that everything had just been a bad dream, but finding the sleeping forms of Pony, Soda and Scout intertwined on my bed only accentuated the fact that it was all real. I knew I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, or lay still either, so I slipped off the bed slowly, taking care not to wake them. Pony shifted slightly but didn't wake up. I saw that his arm was draped over Scout- that was telling of our new situation. Those two were like oil and water most of the time, but I suppose since everything else in our whole world had just changed, maybe those two getting along wasn't so surprising after all.

____________

I walked through the kitchen and glanced at the clock… 6:15. It had been less than four hours ago that I had climbed out of bed to find those two cops on our doorstep. The front hallway didn't even seem like the same place we all had stood last night to hear the most horrible news of our lives. I opened the door and was surprised at the light – I think I had almost expected those two cops to still be there, surrounded by the fluorescent porch light in a sickening glow.

It was light out, but raining. A cool rain. I sat down on the couch Steve had brought over for the porch and buried my head in my hands. I sat there for a while, thinking, alternating between complete panic about what I had agreed to by taking care of what was left of my family, devastating sadness at the loss of my parents, and trying to remain focused on what had to be done.

The cops had given me the number for the funeral home, saying I could call after seven in the morning. When I got up to go check the time it was just seven, so I pulled out the number and dialed. There was no sense putting it off.

"Kennedy Funeral Home."

"Hello… uh, my name is Darrel Curtis and I was told by the police last night that you would be handling my parents' funeral?"

"Yes, Mr. Curtis, that's correct. We're so sorry for your loss. What a terrible tragedy. We're going to do whatever we can to lessen the burden on you and your family."

"Thank you," I said. "So, do you need me to come down there?"

"That's right, sir, we'll need you to come down to work out the details of the arrangements."

"I have some things I need to take care of this morning at the house…" I couldn't just take off and leave the others.

"That's no problem, sir. The afternoon is fine. What time would be good for you?"

Never, I thought. "Maybe… two o'clock?"

"That would be fine. We'll see you then. And again, we're so sorry.

"Thank you," I said. I hung up the phone and walked right back out to the couch where I had been sitting. I was about to give in to it, to let the tears come, when I heard someone in the front hall. I turned as I heard the door creak open.

"Hey, Dar." I was surprised to see that it was Scout. She usually sleeps like a rock until somebody comes in to wake her. She looked terrible. The red in her eyes only made them look more blue. The two of us are the only kids who got mom's blue eyes.

"Hey Scout. The boys' sleepin' still?"

"Yeah." She stood in the doorway.

"That's good. I don't imagine they'll be doin' much of that for awhile. Especially Pony." Pony was our terrible sleeper. He had nightmares that scared the rest of us almost as much as him.

"Probably not." She didn't move out of the doorway.

"C'mere." I held my hand out to her and she seemed almost scared to come to me. I'm sure it wasn't actually me that she was scared of; it was the situation. I was having trouble handling it as an adult; I could only imagine how it must have felt for her to be dealing with this only being twelve. She sat down on the arm of the couch and I slid next to her. She rested her head down on my shoulder and I swear, I could feel her thinking.

"What do we do now, Darry?" She barely whispered it.

"What do you mean?" There were so many things she might be asking about, I didn't know how to answer. We try to survive this, is what I was thinking.

"I mean, what happens now? About a funeral and stuff. Who takes care of that?" I was preparing to answer that when she added,

"Dar, where are they? You know… their… bodies?" The minute she asked, she drew in a deep quivering breath and started crying. I supposed it wasn't that strange of a question – I'm sure all she wanted was Mom and Dad and if she couldn't have them, at least she wanted to know where they were.

I pulled her down off the arm into my lap and hugged her against me. I wasn't sure exactly how much I should be telling her. As the baby, we were always trying to protect her from the harsh realities of life, but on the other hand, she deserved to know what was going on. I looked at her and took a breath before explaining.

"They're at the funeral home. I have to go there today to set up things for the funeral. The cops gave me the number last night and I called this morning. I might take Soda with me, depending how he is." I was hoping Soda would go with me. I would do all the work; I just needed him to be there for moral support.

"Oh." She was processing it. Scout was always a thinker.

"I was thinking maybe Pony could write the obituary. He's the best writer." Pony could pretty much take a mattress warning label and rewrite it to make it sound good.

"Yeah." She hugged me closer and we both just sat there, looking out at the rain. I could feel her heart beating.

I was thinking about getting up and going back in when she whispered to me. "Dar?"

"What?"

"I'm cold." I looked down at her. She had on some old t-shirt of my dad's and sweatpants with no shoes. Of course she was cold.

"Yeah, me too. Let's go in. I was just sittin' out here waitin' for the boys to show up. When you all aren't in school they'll know something is goin' on." The guys we hung around with would not be able to handle waiting until after school to see why the Curtises were all absent. Curiosity would have them showing up before lunch, I was sure. They'd think they were missing out on something. I had been dreading breaking the news to them about our folks since I woke up. Handling my own brothers and sister had been draining enough – I wasn't sure if I could handle breaking the news four more times to our four closest friends, Steve, Johnny, Dally, and Two-Bit.

We went into the house and Scout opened the coat closet, looking for something warm. It didn't surprise me when she pulled out Dad's hunting jacket. I know she just wanted to hold onto everything that was them. She put it on and it went past her knees. I hoped it would warm her up and comfort her both. Then she trotted off to her bedroom to get some socks.

_______________

She came back out of her room and sat down against me on the couch. I don't think either of us said anything for close to a half hour. I was surprised that the boys were still sleeping, especially Ponyboy. At the very least I expected to hear him screaming bloody murder from a nightmare any minute. Finally I heard footsteps on the porch. Two-Bit. I knew all the guys footsteps.

The door banged open. "Hey y'all!" It was indeed Two-Bit. "Y'all playin' sick to get outta school? I'm surprised at you! You too, Dar? No college today? You got a game tonight, Big Guy!" I had no more energy to be annoyed by the nickname so I ignored it.

Whatever Two-Bit saw in our faces scared the hell out of him. I don't know who scared him more, me or Scout. He looked terrified by both of us.

"What's wrong, Darry?" he asked. With a serious face, he no longer looked like himself. He appeared as a complete stranger, and he looked like he might fall over, he had gotten so pale.

"Sit down." Two-Bit immediately sat. That's one thing about being the oldest and biggest; for the most part everybody does what I tell them. Except for Pony, and sometimes Soda, but that's because they know I won't actually hurt them. The others I think are not sure.

"What? Darry, what is it?" True fear, on Two-Bit Mathew's face. I never would have believed it.

"There was a car accident last night," I tried to tell him but my voice wavered and I stopped. I will not cry, I told myself.

I tried again. "Our Mom and Dad…" I couldn't say it. "They…." Two-Bit looked at Scout.

"They died, Two-Bit." Scout finished it for me. I couldn't believe I had made her say that. She broke down crying immediately and I pulled her toward me, holding her tight. Maybe too tight. I forget how little she is, sometimes.

Two-Bit looked like I had just kneed him in the groin. And I _had_ seen that face before.

"No." He said, softly. "No way." He put his face in his hands.

I wasn't gonna make Scout do this. But my voice wasn't working right. I managed to whisper. " It's true. We didn't want to believe it either. But it's true, Two-Bit. They're gone." I had to repeat it, to remind myself it was true. "They're gone."

"Oh my God." I couldn't look at him; Scout was still crying into my chest. I rubbed her hair. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so sorry." He was. I knew he was.

Nobody spoke for a moment. Scout tried to pull herself together.

"What can I do?" Normally I would not have ever asked Two-Bit to take on something so huge for me, but I needed him now and I hoped he wouldn't say no.

"Do you think… Could you tell the rest of the guys for us?" I had enough to deal with here. To say the least.

"Ok, Dar."

I could tell by the way he said it that no, actually he didn't want to do it, but he would, and I knew he was only doing it because I was asking. My parents had treated him like another son, which practically made him another little brother of mine.

"I have to go to the funeral home and make the arrangements later. Could one of you guys come stay with Pony and Scout?" I didn't want to leave them alone. I knew Pony would probably protest but I just wasn't comfortable with the two of them alone after all this. Who knew what they would do. I didn't want them home crying alone with nobody around to comfort them. So far they had been sad, but I worried the dam would really break eventually, and who knows what that might mean.

"What time?" My appointment was at two. We all knew Two-Bit was always late.

"One," I said.

"I'll be here," he said. He took off out the door and I felt a tiny bit of relief. At least I would only have my own family to take care of, for the time being. I pulled Scout closer and closed my eyes for a second, wishing it all away but knowing it was here to stay.

**A/N: I'm kinda liking writing Darry. How am I doing? His story splits with Scout's a lot more next chapter.**


	4. Chapter 4

I thought Soda had been listening to us talking to Two-Bit but purposely stayed away until he left. Two-Bit is generally not anyone you'd want to avoid, but seeing him as somber as he was after we broke the news had been strange, almost scary. I couldn't ever remember seeing him so pained, not even a few years back when he had broken his arm jumping over a fence.

Soda appeared in the doorway just after Two-Bit left, looked at us sitting on the couch, and came over and lay on us. Soda is not subtle with his affection in any way, he just covers you with himself.

"This so sucks." He said, his face buried in the couch cushion.

"Yeah."

"I know." Scout and I responded at the same time.

"Who was here?" Then again, maybe he hadn't been listening.

"Two-Bit. He's gonna tell the gang." I tried not to sound happy about that but the truth was, I was enormously relieved. Two-Bit was a good friend, and I truly appreciated him taking some of the burden off me.

Soda picked up his head and looked at me. "Good," he said. I guess maybe he knew I had been dreading telling everyone. For being three years younger, Soda usually understood me pretty well. Actually, Soda pretty much understands everybody. It's a gift that none of the rest of us have.

"Pony still sleeping?" I asked. I couldn't believe it- he is the worst sleeper and here he was outsleeping us all on the night we had a real live nightmare.

"Yeah. I didn't wanna wake him," Soda said. He and Pony were real close. Sometimes I envied that closeness.

"Good. I have to go to the funeral home at two," I looked at Soda, hoping he would get the fact that I really wanted him to come, just so I wouldn't be alone.

"I'll come with…" Soda said. I knew he didn't want to come, and I felt bad for making him feel like he had to, but God, I didn't want to go alone. And I couldn't exactly ask one of the kids to come with me. Scout seemed like she was about an inch shy of a total breakdown.

"What do we have to do there? Soda asked me. I had no good answer. I had wanted to ask more questions on the phone but I didn't want to sound like an idiot.

"I'm not really sure. Obviously, I've never done this before." I hadn't meant to make Soda feel dumb but after I said it I realized I sounded kind of like a jerk.

"Right." Soda didn't seem to notice. I could see Scout's mind running a mile a minute- it was clear from her expression that she was thinking about the funeral home too.

"I have to call Uncle Pat." My mom's brother Patrick was our only relative. Our grandparents on both sides had passed, and I was a little thankful for that at the moment, because as much as it was gonna suck to call Pat, breaking this kind of news to my grandparents would have been worse. Though I guess they could have helped out with the kids. I briefly wondered whether Pat would expect to get custody of Scout and Pony… with four kids of his own though, it seemed doubtful.

I broke myself out of my trance and walked into the kitchen. I grabbed my mom's address book from the kitchen drawer and looked up his number. I held the phone in my hand for a minute before I dialed, until I realized there was really no way to prepare for this kind of phone call.

So I just dialed. It rang three times before my aunt answered.

"Hello?" she sounded breathless. I realized it was probably a bad time to call, the kids would be getting ready for school.

"Hello… Aunt Carrie? This is Darry. Sorry to be so short, but is Uncle Pat there?"

"Darry? Sure, hon. Is everything OK?"

"Well, not really. I really need to talk to Uncle Patrick." It was his sister, after all, I felt he should hear it first.

"Just a minute," she said, and although she covered the receiver, I heard her yelling. "Patrick, pick up the phone. It's Darry. Junior. I think something is wrong."

There was general commotion in the background and I heard another receiver pick up.

"I've got it, Carrie," I heard my uncle say.

"OK," she said, yelling at her boys in the background, and I heard the other receiver hang up.

Soda wandered into the kitchen and sat at the table. I knew he had come in so I wouldn't have to be alone, doing this. Soda just usually knows what everyone needs.

"Darry? What's the matter?" Pat sounded pretty concerned.

I could already feel my voice becoming unsteady. I was thinking of how I would feel if someone called to tell me Scout was dead. My mom had been his kid sister.

"I have some bad news," I cringed as I remembered the cop saying that to me the night before.

"What is it, Darry? Is everyone OK?"

"No," I couldn't really manage any more. It was so strange for me to be calling him, he must have been starting to put things together.

"Your Mom and Dad?"

I couldn't talk. Soda was looking at me like he wanted to help but he was full-on crying.

"Darry?" He was waiting for me to answer.

"They were in a car wreck, Pat," I said. "They died. Both of them." There. I said it.

He was silent for a second. I felt like maybe I should say something but had no idea what I could say.

"Oh my God, Darry. When?"

"Last night… this morning." I realized that I actually didn't know which day it had been. I actually hoped it had been in the early morning, not on the night of Scout's birthday.

"I'll come up there," he said. "As soon as I can. How are the boys doing? And Scout… How's she doing, Darry?"

"Not that good." I wasn't going to lie to him. There was really no point.

"Hold on, Darry." I could hear him cover the receiver and talk to my Aunt in the background. I heard her react to the news and my uncle came back on.

"Have you made the arrangements yet? I can come up and help you with that."

"I have to go today. I don't know yet when the funeral will be. There is no need for you to come today, Pat. We're OK." Alright, so I did lie, a little. I actually didn't want him around, yet. We needed to just be with each other, first.

"Will you call me back after you go, then? To let me know what's happening? God, Darry, I can't believe this."

"Me neither." My voice was cracking again.

"You hang in there Darry," Pat said. "I'll get there as soon as I can to help out. You shouldn't have to take care of all of this on your own."

"I appreciate that," said. "And I'm so sorry to have to tell you about this."

"It's breaking my heart that you have to deal with this," he said. "Both of them. God."

I had no reply. It was breaking my heart, too.

"You take care of the kids, OK, Darry? You call me back anytime. For anything. I'm going to get a flight as soon as I can."

"OK. Thanks Pat."

"Bye Darry. I love you, buddy."

Dad and Pat always called all their boys "buddy."

"You too," I said. "Bye."

I hung up and collapsed into a chair at the table, completely drained. Soda got up and stood behind me, rubbing my back and shoulders. He could normally relax me in a second, but it was going to take a hell of a lot more than a backrub this time.

"You did good, Darry," he said.

"Thanks. Where did Scout go?"

"I don't know."

"Well you need to go check on her, I don't want her feeling alone right now." Soda kept rubbing my shoulders for another minute.

While I sat there, Soda behind me, Pony wandered into the kitchen like a zombie.

"You OK?" I asked, looking up at him. Stupid question, I realized immediately.

He looked at me like I was a complete ass.

"No," he said. "Are you?"

"No," I admitted. Soda let go of me and went to Pony. Soda and Pony were like natural extensions of each other. I could not even begin to understand their bond, as different as they were.

"I have to take a shower. Soda, go check on Scout." He did. Pony walked over to the refrigerator and took out a Pepsi. Normally that was not something Mom allowed for breakfast, but I didn't say anything.

I felt like I should say something to him, but I didn't know what, so I just went off into the bathroom for my shower.

I was surprised at how quickly the tears came, once I knew I was alone and knew nobody would walk in on me. The tears just poured from my eyes, mixing with the flow from the shower and running down the drain. I knew then what people meant about crying a river of tears. I guess I felt the pressure to get it all over with since I knew once I went back out to my brothers and Scout I would have to be strong again.

I got dressed and walked into Soda and Pony's room to find the two of them, plus Scout, laying in bed. They all looked like hell.

"Soda, we're gonna have to leave in a half hour. Get a shower." I hated to make him move. There was something touching about how they were comforting each other. Again, I was a little envious.

"Where you going?" Pony asked.

"We have to take care of the funeral home stuff."

"I wanna go." Pony always felt like he was being left out.

"No Pony," I said. "I need you to stay here with Scout." He looked like he was thinking about arguing but changed his mind. I knew he would like feeling like he was responsible for her. "Also, we want you to write the obituary. You'll do the best job."

"OK," he finally said quietly. I knew that would get him to agree to stay. He'd probably have it done by tonight.

"I know you don't want to get up, Soda, but you can't come with me looking like that," I said. He slowly got up, got some clean clothes and shuffled off to the bathroom.

I sat down on the bed with Pony and Scout, still in Dad's jacket. I was asking myself how in the hell I could ever take my parents' place. I knew I couldn't, so I just said it.

"This is going to be hard on all of us, but hardest on you two," I said quietly. "I can't possibly take their place. I'm gonna do the best I can."

Pony shocked me, saying. "We know, Darry. We trust you."

I stood up, though really I just wanted to lay there with the two of them. "Two-Bit's coming back over while me and Soda are gone. They'll probably want that obituary tomorrow, Pone."

"OK." I went out into the living room to find Two-Bit and Steve.

"Just keep an eye on them," I said. "They're a mess."

"We will, Darry," Two-Bit said. I hoped it was true.

**A/N: I was trying to keep the chapters parallel with the original epiphany, but this one was going to run too long. I'm finding out that Darry is a very complicated young man! Hope you like it!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I appreciate how everyone has commented that I have not written Darry as an (and I quote whatcoloristhesky) "asexual hardass." He is a little bit of a hardass in this chapter but I think he had to be. If you've ever done the funeral home thing, it sucks.**

Soda came out of his room and we headed out the front door, leaving Steve and Two-Bit sitting uncomfortably on the couch. They had been around Pony and Scout their whole lives, but were not usually given official babysitter status.

"OK. We'll be back." Darry said.

"Where's the kids at?" asked Steve. It drove Ponyboy absolutely out of his mind when Steve called him "kid." I'm not sure if Scout cared, pretty much everybody called her "kid."

"They're in my room. They need some sleep. Keep it quiet in here." Hearing those words come from Soda's mouth seemed impossibly wrong. If I had a dime for every time Soda had been told to keep it down by my parents or me, I'd be a rich man, for sure. Now he was telling his best friends to shut up? Things were so screwed up.

We didn't talk much on the way to the funeral home. I guess you could call it a respectful silence. We both respected each other's sadness enough to not try to make stupid small talk.

We pulled into the parking lot at the funeral home and all I could think was: They're in there. My parents, dead, were in there. For some reason, I felt fear. Not fear of ghosts, or anything stupid like that, but fear that I wouldn't be able to handle this. Maybe I should have waited for Patrick to come. And now I had dragged Soda into it, too.

I tried not to look scared, or unsure. I knew it had to be done. I looked at Soda.

"Are you ready?" I asked. He looked like he was gonna cry. Shit. I never should have brought him. First of many mistakes in my new role, I presumed. I had never doubted myself in my life as much as I had in the last day. I didn't like it. At all.

Soda just nodded, and opened the door. I climbed out my side and we walked up to the door and rang the bell. I had been here before: we had waked both sets of grandparents here. It was very fancy, to me it looked more like a place you'd have a prom or a formal dinner or something, not a storage and processing facility for dead people.

An impeccably dressed young man greeted us at the door and ushered us into an office off to the side of where my grandparents' wakes had been held. The appointment was nothing like what I had expected it to be. There was no room for crying or emotion, no real opportunity to think about what we were actually doing. The whole process of death seemed so institutionalized, so sanitized; like all the feeling had been taken out of it. It was all business. It was well suited for me, the emotional side of this I was more than happy to bury for the moment, but I could see Soda looking more and more traumatized with every step. The funeral director showed us prices for different kinds of funerals, and I tried to look like I was carefully considering the options but I was actually shocked to see how much this all was going to cost.

"We don't recommend an open viewing, in this case." The man said. Soda paled at that one, even him knowing that was a polite way to say that our parents looked terrible and this funeral would be a closed-casket.

"Though once the bodies are prepared, we can arrange a private viewing for the family," he added. I thought Soda might either throw up or faint.

"That is, if you opt for a visitation at all." I looked at Soda and knew there would be no wake. I would tell him it was for Pony and Scout's sake but I knew it would be too much for him, as well.

"I think we would prefer just a funeral service, no wake," I said. I gave them the name of the only local church we had ever attended, with our neighbor's family, and they said they would arrange a standard funeral service. The man busied himself with reworking the cost based on our choices.

This is a business, I suddenly realized. The business of dying. Talk about fucking job security... I actually started to feel something like anger toward these people. They didn't know my parents (or maybe they did, since they had clearly paid out a healthy sum for my grandparents' funerals, I now knew) but here they were, presenting me with neatly laid out options for how much it would cost to bid them a final farewell. I could tell my aggravation with the process was making Soda even more uneasy and, by the time we were ushered into the showroom to look at coffins (a showroom, a fucking showroom, they called it, like we were looking at couches or something) I think Soda had enough. I quickly picked out a respectable model that was at the bottom of the price range (though still pretty damn expensive for a box that was going to be buried and never seen again, I thought) and told Soda to wait in the car while I wrapped things up. I was positive he was going to begin bawling the minute he walked out the door and I hated sending him out alone, but I wanted him gone for the rest of it. I hated myself already for making him come.

I had a feeling the funeral director was waiting for him to leave, too, before asking me a few more questions. As soon as the door had closed behind Soda, the man ushered me back into his office.

"We'll need some clothes for the interment," he said. There was yet another thing I hadn't considered. I suppose they don't usually bury people naked, and whatever they had been wearing would have been pretty messed up from the accident. For a second I tried to think of what they had been wearing the night before, but the second I remembered and the image came into my mind I realized that I hadn't really wanted to see it. Not now.

Shit, I was gonna have to pick out clothes for them to be buried in.

"We also need to know about their personal effects," he said. I must have looked like I had no idea what he was talking about, because he clarified for me.

"Jewelry, watches, things like that. We need to know whether you would like them interred with your parents or not. We removed them all for the embalming process but we can redress them as you see fit.

Redress them. Christ.

"Would you like to see the items we removed?" He asked.

"That would be helpful," I said, trying not to make it apparent in my voice how close I was to hating this man I didn't even know, because he was referring to the two most important people in my world up until a few hours ago as little more than jewelry mannequins.

He reached into a drawer and pulled out an envelope. Inside were both parents' wedding rings, my Mom's engagement ring, her Irish Claddagh ring that she had inherited from her grandmother, my Dad's pocket watch, and my Mom's diamond earrings.

I looked at everything. The wedding rings were theirs, a symbol of them. It turned out that the accident had been after midnight, so it had been on their anniversary. The funeral director had shown me the death certificates, saying I would need them for a lot of paperwork. When I saw the recorded time of death I had asked about it and he said that it had been recorded at the scene, by the first responders, at 1:03 a.m. I was relieved to see that the time of death on both certificates was the same. While I had no idea what had really happened before the ambulances got there, I didn't need to see any actual recorded gap of time in which one parent had been dead and not the other. In my mind, they did everything as a team, dying included.

I knew my Mom would want Scout to someday have her Claddagh ring, and I knew it would make her happy if one of us boys used her engagement ring someday. Eventually I decided I should keep the watch and earrings too, the watch because it was our Dad's and there would be no need for telling time wherever he was now, and, though I hated myself for it, I kept the diamond earrings in case we ever needed to sell them. I still had no idea what our financial situation was; that was something I was waiting on Pat to work through. He worked as some sort of broker or something; he knew about money. Thank God, because I didn't.

"So you would like them to be interred with the wedding rings?" he said.

"Yes," I said. I'm sure I sounded undecided, though.

"Should you change your mind, we can return them to you any time prior to the interment." He put the rest of the things in an envelope identical to the one he had pulled out, and handed it across the desk at me.

"Ok," I said. I was thinking about asking the others what they thought but I was also starting to think that, judging from Soda's current state, it might just be better to involve them in as few decisions as possible. I was also wondering if this man I was coming to dislike so much would be pawning off the rings an hour after my parents were buried.

"Do you have any other questions?" he asked.

"Not that I can think of," I said. Though I would have liked to ask him how he slept at night taking this much money from a bunch of grieving kids just to put their parents into the ground.

"Well, you can call anytime. And again, we're sorry for the loss." I truly wanted to drive the guy's head through the wall at this point but I kept it together somehow.

"Thank you," I said, as I took my parent's "personal effects" and went outside to comfort my devastated brother.


	6. Chapter 6

I went out to the truck and went straight to the passenger door, opened it and put my arms around Soda. He was curled up into a ball, crying.

"I'm sorry, Soda, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought you with me."

"I wanted to come with you," he said. "It's not fair for you to have to do this all alone."

I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't want to do this all alone, but I didn't want to make him miserable either.

After I had held him for a minute he calmed down.

"I'm OK, Darry," he said. "Let's go home."

I walked around to the driver's seat. About halfway home I broke the silence.

"I decided to have them buried with their wedding rings," I said. I was relieved that Soda didn't start crying again.

"I think that's good," he said. "What about their clothes?" he asked.

"I have to bring some tomorrow," I said. "Do you think Scout can handle picking something out for Mom?"

"I hope so," Soda said. He knew as well as I did that us boys wouldn't know what to pick.

We pulled into the driveway and I heard Dallas's voice as I walked up to the house. I knew he would be furious, just because that is what he's best at, though in fact he'd actually be sad.

Dally came right over to me. "Darrel, I'm sorry."

"Thanks, Dallas. I know you are." I had to call Patrick back with the details, and was dreading it. I went into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Just to take the edge off. I was grateful that nobody said anything about it. I'm not usually the kind of guy who's drinking at 4:30 at home. I leave that to Two-Bit.

Scout came in and sat at the table with me. I guess she was the only one brave enough to come in because everybody else stayed in the living room.

I just sat at the table, playing with my beer bottle.

"Was it terrible?" She could already tell, I'm sure, from our faces.

"Pretty much." I just stared at the bottle. "The funeral is on Monday. I decided on no wake because I thought it would be too hard on you and Pony." I didn't add Soda's name; I didn't want her to know how upset me bringing him along had made him.

I didn't want to have to ask her this, but since I was looking down the barrel at a sizeable list of things that I didn't want to do, I figured I might as well just get it over with.

"I need you to do something, Scout." I wished there was anyone else to ask.

"OK," she said, hesitantly.

I took a breath. "I need to bring some clothes to the funeral home, for them to… be buried in." My voice started to crack. I was NOT going to cry in front of her. "I need you to pick out something for Mom."

She didn't answer me right away and I was a little worried about how she might react.

"Now?" She thought I meant right away. I could see how she would need some time to think about it.

"No. By tomorrow." She was quiet for a minute. It's easy to read on her face when she is thinking hard.

"OK." I didn't think she would say no but I was glad that she didn't sound mad at me for asking.

"Thanks," I said. "She would be proud of you for doing it." I guess I shouldn't have said that because she started to cry. I got up and stood behind her chair, circling my arms around her.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't mean to keep making you cry."

"Its not you," she said. "I just don't feel like I am ever going to stop. I can't believe this is even happening." I realized again that as bad as this was for me it had to be much worse for her.

"I know. It might be awhile, Scout. For all of us." I knew that I didn't think I would feel anything close to normal for a long, long time. Though I steeled my resolve to try to _act_ normal sooner, for them.

I stood behind her with my arms around her neck for a while until she stopped crying and then I knew I couldn't put it off any longer. I stood up and said, "I have to call Uncle Pat back."

"Do you want me to stay in here?" I thought she was pretty smart to ask. I guess we were all getting a little tired of trying to read each other's minds to know what each other wanted.

"No, go check on Soda. He's a wreck. I probably shouldn't have taken him." I did feel bad about that. Scout and Soda are good at comforting each other.

She walked out into the living room and I heard Dallas ask,

"Darry OK?"

"He has to call my uncle and tell him about the funeral. He's about as OK as any of us." I almost smiled, hearing Scout get a little catty with Dallas. "Where's Johnny, couldn't you find him?" I heard her ask Two-Bit.

"Oh, I found him. He's real upset. I don't think he knows what to say to you guys. My guess is he's in the lot or somewhere trying to work it out."

"I'll go find him." Dallas said. I'm sure Dallas was looking for an excuse to get out of the house anyway.

"Tell him he doesn't have to say anything," I heard Scout say. She got along real well with Johnny, which was funny since she and Pony were so constantly at odds.

I picked up the phone and dialed Pat's number. He answered himself this time. "Hello?"

"Patrick? It's Darry."

"Darry, I haven't stopped thinking about you since you called. How is everybody doing?"

"Not so good, I guess. Soda and I went to make the arrangements today. The funeral is going to be on Monday. I decided not to have a wake. I don't think the kids could handle it. Soda didn't do very well at the funeral home, actually."

"I'm sorry Darry, I wish I could get up there sooner, but I had trouble getting a flight. I'm getting in tomorrow at two. Do you think one of you could pick me up at the airport?"

"No problem. Are you going to stay with us?"

"No, I don't want to put you guys out. I'll get a room by the airport. I'll rent a car for the funeral."

"It's no problem, Pat."

"No, you guys have enough to deal with. I'll come out tomorrow night and help you with the legal stuff." I had a feeling he didn't want to stay over in our house and be surrounded by memories of my Mom and Dad.

"I'm taking guardianship of the kids."

"I know. Your mom talked to me about that when they revised their will. Is there anything else I can do for you before I get there Darry? I mean it, anything."

"I don't think so." I had no idea what any of us needed, including myself.

"Allright Darry, well I'll see you tomorrow. You take care of yourself. Give the boys and Scout my love.

"I will. Thanks Pat."

I sat back down at the table and finished my beer. I heard Soda and Pony's door open and Scout reappeared at the door.

"I'm gonna cook something," she announced. "We have to eat or we're all gonna get sick."

I realized that none of us had eaten anything since dinner the night before. Nice job so far I was doing as guardian, my family hadn't eaten anything for an entire day and dinner had not even crossed my mind. No wonder I was feeling the effects of just one beer so strongly.

"You can cook?" None of us had ever really cooked. Our Mom loved cooking and it had never been anything we had to worry about.

She climbed up onto the counter and was looking through the shelves to see what we had. She turned around and caught me staring at her.

"_What_?" she asked.

"You're really gonna cook?" Scout did spend the most time of all of us in the kitchen while she cooked, maybe she did know how. She can be surprising sometimes.

"Well somebody has to." I put down my beer bottle and went over and lifted her down off the counter since jumping with a box of spaghetti in each hand might not be the best idea.

I put her down, then figured I should ask, "You need help?"

"Can you boil water?" she asked.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: This is very challenging to write. I have kept all dialogue involving Darry intact from the original "epiphany," but the point of view has completely shifted. I am very interested to hear from people who have read both, how am I doing? If you haven't read my first story, I hope you will, and comment on the contrast!**

I watched Scout as she worked to put together something for us to eat. I had to give her credit, I probably would have forgotten about eating until my own hunger rose above all of the other pressing issues swirling around in my head. She seemed as concerned about making sure the rest of us ate as herself. She was even cooking enough to feed the whole gang. I wondered if that was a female instinct or something. It suddenly occurred to me how outnumbered she was now- the only girl in a house full of boys.

The boys pretty much stayed in the living room. Dallas had brought Johnny back and he hadn't said a word to me since he arrived. He hardly talked to anyone but Pony and Scout anyway. Steve and Two-Bit didn't have much to say either – I think all of them were trying to figure out what we wanted them to do, but they didn't have the common sense to just ask, like Scout had earlier. So they hung around, feeling uncomfortable and making the rest of us even more uncomfortable by association.

Scout seemed to know her way around the kitchen reasonably well for a kid, and, I have to admit, her dinner didn't come out half bad. In a normal situation, I'm sure the guys would have given her the business, tearing away at her cooking ability piece by piece, but they had the common sense to lay off- even Two-Bit, who pretty much lived for opportunities to harass and insult his closest friends.

We pretty much ate in silence. Nobody knew what to say. After dinner the gang made a quick exit, heading, no doubt for someplace less uncomfortable. Usually Johnny spent weekend nights on our couch, but even he chose the familiar abuse at his own house over the unfamiliar misery at ours. I spotted Scout at the sink washing out a pan and realized this was going to be my first test as guardian, trying to maintain some of the structure that we had previously so taken for granted. I called over to her.

"Scout, what're you doing? It's not your turn." It was Ponyboy's week to do dishes. Our parents hadn't made us do much around the house, but dishes duty was expected, and equally distributed. We each took a week, in descending age order. Pony was up.

Scout didn't hear me over the running water.

"Pony," I called into the living room, "It's your week for dishes. Get in here."

"Forget it, Darry," he said. "I'll do it tomorrow." Already I could see how Pony was going to be my biggest challenge in terms of being taken seriously. Scout didn't really ever argue with me, and Soda generally aimed to please everyone, not just me – but Pony, well, he just naturally resisted me. The problem here wasn't that he didn't want to do the dishes, it was that he didn't want me telling him to do them.

"That's not how it works Pony," I said. The rule with our parents about dishes was that, unless you were genuinely sick or incapacitated, or had legitimately traded a day with someone else, you were doing the dishes. Trades were written in on our family calendar, on the refrigerator, and there was no trade recorded for that night. The worst part is, Pony knew the drill as well as the rest of us but was already pushing the envelope as far as he could with me.

"Come on, Darry…" he started. I wasn't having it.

"Get in there, Pony. Scout's doing it and it's not her night, plus the fact that she already cooked for us." He glared at me.

I could see that Pony was weighing the benefits and risks of arguing. Soda piped up before he could argue.

"Come on, Pony. It's not fair to make Scout do it." I doubt Pony cared that Scout was doing it, or that I was on his case about it- he didn't get along with me or Scout all that well- but the fact that Soda was calling him on it clearly bothered him. He peeled himself off the couch and went into the kitchen, wordlessly taking the pan from Scout. She looked surprised and grabbed a dishtowel to dry her hands, coming into the living room.

The phone rang just then and I knew it would be someone from my team. At the back of my mind all night was the fact that I should have been at my game, Mom and Dad watching from the stands and the rest of my family partaking in their usual mischief.

I picked up the phone and was surprised to find that it was my coach. I had to call him that morning to tell him about what had happened and was mortified to find myself crying on the line. He had been close with my parents, my Dad having been a legend in his own time, and seemed pretty upset himself. But Christ, crying to my coach. Not so tough.

He told me that they had won, that the team sent their condolences and missed me. To my amazement, I found myself struggling to care that much about the game. Football, which at times had been my driving passion, had now taken a backseat to what was going on in my family. I looked into the living room at Scout, lying in Dad's chair, trying not to look uncomfortable although Soda had climbed onto the chair on top of her, and Pony, having just finished the dishes and crashed on the couch looking more miserable than fitting for any fourteen year old. I suffered through a few more of the requisite pleasantries with my coach, and hastened my goodbyes. I truly felt that my siblings needed me at that time more than any team ever could have. Finally I ended the call.

"We won," I turned and told my family, not because I wanted them or expected them to care, but I wanted to justify my time on the phone, away from them. "We're going to the conference finals."

"That's great, Dar," Scout said, in the most completely neutral voice I had ever heard from her. It wasn't happy, sad, accusing, judgmental, just nothing. She could not have answered me in that tone on purpose; it was impossible. This tone was possible only from someone who either had no energy left for emotion or had completely convinced herself that any emotion was futile. I looked at her and she was a shell, just a vestige of Scout. She was clearly exhausted by the stress of what had been going on.

Soda and Pony said nothing. The TV was on, but in my head there was a louder sound, the humming of all of us thinking at the same time, about what we had lost, about how we would get through it, about who we were to each other, now. I looked around. Pony was falling asleep on the couch. Soda was drifting off, on top of Scout, who was clearly uncomfortable under his increasingly dead weight but not giving in to complaint.

Finally I spoke up. "You guys need to go to bed. This is going to be a long weekend."

Scout looked at me like that was the most asinine thing I could have said, but she said nothing. She did, however, look relieved when Soda lifted himself off of the chair and her full lung capacity was restored.

"C'mon Pone. Lets go." Soda pulled him up and he begrudgingly followed him into the bedroom.

"'Night you guys. You know where I'll be if you need me." I didn't suppose those two would need me, though; they were all each other needed, most of the time.

"'Night, Dar." Soda said.

Scout and I were left alone in the living room. I wanted her to head off to bed, too; she probably needed sleep more than any of us, but she seemed wide awake.

"I should get those clothes…" She said.

"You don't have to do it now, Scout. The morning is fine." I knew she needed time. I didn't want to rush her. I hadn't dealt with getting Dad's clothes yet either.

"I have to do it now, Darry. Otherwise I'll think about it all night. Really. Come with me?" I didn't want her kept awake stressing about it. Plus, it might be nice to have someone in there with me when I got Dad's clothes.

"Alright." We walked together to our parents' bedroom. As I turned the knob and opened the door I could feel Scout freeze. I knew exactly how she felt; this was sacred ground, now, but we had to go in. I pushed her forward gently and we went inside. I didn't waste time, I went right over to Dad's closet and pulled out his suit. It was easy, for me. Men wear a suit when they die. But Scout was going to have to make a choice.

She didn't go over to Mom's closet right away. She stood at the foot of the bed, looking around the room. Finally, she walked over to the closet and opened the doors. She stood there looking at everything and for a second I imagined her as a woman, deciding what to wear on an important date.

It was clear that she was taking this responsibility very seriously. She was crying a little, and I thought about going to her, but it seemed like maybe that was just necessary to the task, a side effect of being able to make the right choice. She examined every possible choice, feeling the fabric, looking critically at each item, before finally picking out a pink outfit. It was nothing I would have picked, but it made me feel a little better about asking for her help, because it was the perfect choice. She came over and laid it on the bed.

"Perfect," I said.

"Do they need the…other stuff?" She was clearly embarrassed to ask me if they needed underwear, and who could blame her? What twelve year-old wants to discuss underwear with her older brother?

"Everything, I think." I told her. She went and gathered the undergarments and stockings for my mom and then looked critically at what I had chosen for my Dad. She walked into his closet and came out with a different tie than the one I had chosen. I had tried to pick the fanciest one.

"I gave him that one. Three Christmases ago."

"Then this is the one." She said. We both just stood there looking at what we had picked out.

"Thanks," I said. Really, I would have picked something terrible for Mom if it had been up to me.

"Well, I did my best," she said. "I hope it's OK." She sounded very unsure.

"You did great," I said. I wanted to tell her again that Mom would have been proud but didn't want to make her cry again.

"Darry?" I wasn't sure what she was going to say.

"What?" I was so tired, I hoped she didn't want anything too complicated, though I probably would have done whatever she needed.

"Nothing… Just… Goodnight." She obviously had read my exhaustion and changed her mind about asking whatever it was. I was grateful.

I squeezed her shoulder. "Goodnight. I'll come tuck you in in a minute."

"OK." She headed into her room. I went to use the bathroom, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and went into her room. I sat on the side of her bed and pushed her hair back off her forehead. How it must suck to be going through this at her age, I thought.

"It will get harder at first but then it will get easier," was the best I could manage to reassure her, right then. I was aching for the solitude of my room, my bed, just to be alone with nobody needing me for the moment. I had spent so much energy reassuring the rest of the family, I had nothing left to spare for myself. I crawled into bed and closed my eyes, trying to forget about everything that was happening.


	8. Chapter 8

In my own bed, with Soda, Pony and Scout all sleeping, or at least trying to, I let the tears come freely. I lay on my back, for the first time allowing myself to feel sad about my own loss, knowing that my own life had changed as much and probably more than my siblings. I never realized how much we had all needed our parents until they were gone and suddenly the neediness of my younger brothers and sisters had transferred to me. I was exhausted from trying to be there for them nonstop.

Eventually my exhaustion got the best of me and I felt myself settle into my pillow.

My dreams were haunted by my parents and my siblings, each in turn impressing upon me all that I would be responsible for, now that I was the guardian. Awaking from a particularly disturbing dream in which my parents were asking me to make sure that everyone was taken care of, I was overcome with the realization of all for which I was now responsible.

I realized that I had gone from having virtually no worries about my family to having all of the worries, and I broke down with a severity that surprised even myself.

"Oh God," I whispered into my pillow. "Help me." I couldn't remember ever before crying like this. "I don't know how to take care of them." I was completely overcome. "Help me. I'm just a kid myself!" How would I ever take care of them, I wondered, and cursed myself for having taken on the responsibility. They deserved someone more capable than me. But I wanted to be the one to be there for them, so much. "I just wanna be there for them. God, please! Please help me. Help me do this right." I wanted to be a better man than I was, so much, at that moment. I buried my head in my pillow and finally let my own sorrow take over.

I figured I would probably cry myself to sleep, eventually. Clearly there would be nobody to comfort me. Therefore I was shocked to feel a presence on the bed behind me, and a small arm reach around me in search of my hand.

"Darry, it's okay," It was Scout. I had no idea where she came from. I tried with all my might to stop crying, for her sake.

"Scout?" I wiped my eyes and tried to stop crying, then took her hand in mine, still facing away from her. "What are you doing in here? You OK?" I had no idea when she had come into the room.

"I was scared, so I came in here. I was sleeping on the floor. I didn't want to wake you up, I just wanted to sleep on your floor. I'm sorry, Darry. I heard you crying." I never should have left her alone. Of course she was scared. I was scared, and I was nineteen.

"Scout, I…"

"Darry, you are as sad as all of us. You should be. I was scared to not see you crying before." This was interesting. I had assumed she didn't want to see me cry, but I guess it turns out she wanted me to cry.

"You don't have to try to be everything for us. We can take some responsibility." She was hugging me so hard. I couldn't believe a little kid like her could squeeze so hard. I was trying not to cry but, embarrassingly, my body shuddered with every sob. Instead of being scared, Scout was trying to comfort me. With every sob, she stroked my hair and hugged me tighter.

"Darry, please. It's OK to cry. I need you to cry. I feel like you think you can't show us you're sad too, and scares me."

I was shocked. I had no idea that what she actually needed was to see my own vulnerability. While I had been trying to keep my emotions in check for her sake, she had interpreted it to mean that I didn't care very much about all that had happened.

."I'm sad too, Scout,"

"I know. I knew." I realized that we had a bond that I hadn't ever known we shared until our parents were gone. We were the bookends, I realized, the outside forces that closed in around our brothers and held us all together. We held onto each other and when I thought she was asleep she surprised me, by speaking.

"Darry?" she barely whispered. I guess she thought I was asleep, too.

"Yeah?" I was awake, but barely.

"Could I stay in here tonight?" I couldn't believe that she thought I was going to make her go back to her own room, knowing she was scared in the first place, and having held me all through my own breakdown.

"I'd like that," I told her, and I felt her relax against me. I was hugging her and it occurred to me that I am a lot bigger than she is.

"I'm not crushing you, am I?"

"I'm fine," She sounded surprised that I asked. "And Darry?" she added.

"Hmm?" I was almost asleep.

"Don't worry," she told me, " I won't tell Pony and Soda about you crying." She knew that I hadn't wanted her to see me so upset.

"I know you won't." I whispered. I held her close and though about how important the two of us really were to the family.

"Bookends," I thought to myself, though I guess I must have mumbled it aloud.

"What?" Scout whispered, snuggling closer.

"Nothing," I said. "Try to get some sleep."

"Love you, Darry." She said. It felt good to hear.


	9. Chapter 9

I woke up to the sensation of being stared at. Sure enough, when I opened my eyes, Scout was lying there, in exactly the same position she had fallen asleep, staring at me.

"What are you looking at?" I teased her. She looked like she almost smiled but it was clear from her eyes that there was just too much sadness to allow any vestige of happiness to cross her face.

"Scout?"

"Yeah?"

"You're killing my arm." The two of us must have remained perfectly still all night, and due to her head having been on my bicep, I felt as though my lower arm was now completely devoid of blood.

"I'm sorry," she said. It was funny neither of us had moved. Usually we are both pretty restless sleepers.

"Thanks for letting me sleep in here," She moved to get up and leave.

"I was kinda glad you came in, actually." I pulled her back down.

She lay back down. I rested my head on my elbow and looked over at her.

"I just thought you might be mad, I mean… I know you don't really want us in here," she said. I felt pretty bad that she had felt she had to sneak in. "It's just… Pony and Soda have each other. I felt kinda scared being alone." I was surprised to see that we had been feeling the same way. I wondered if she envied the boys' closeness too.

"I have a feeling that might change," I said. I wasn't sure why I had been so intent on keeping everyone out of my room. It's not like any of us ever really barged in on each other without knocking if the door was closed.

"Have you heard the boys up?'

"Not yet. I think we're first." It was fairly unheard of for Scout to be awake before Soda, and I was wondering when the obvious lack of sleep would catch up with her.

"You still tired?" I asked.

"No." I'm pretty sure she was lying.

"Want to help me with breakfast?" I asked as we both climbed out of bed. I had cooked breakfast a few times with Dad. She had been right, last night- If we didn't eat, we would all get sick.

"Ok, I guess." She followed me out of my bedroom into the kitchen and wandered into the bathroom to shower.

I stood leaning against the kitchen counter for a few minutes after Scout disappeared into the bathroom. I still half-expected my parents to come through the door at any minute. I wondered how long it would be until I stopped feeling that way – or if I ever would. It was impossible to stop thinking of them; they were everywhere. Their handwriting on the notepad by the phone, their shoes by the door, their coffee stains on the cookbook pages as I searched for the recipe for pancake batter Dad and I had used when we cooked Mom breakfast every Mother's Day. As hard as it was to see them everywhere, I didn't want those little reminders to go away. I just wanted to be able to see them without the horrible feeling of loss that had settled into my heart. I sighed heavily as I opened the refrigerator and took out the eggs and milk and set them down on the counter.

I guess I had been standing against the counter longer than I thought, because as soon as I got out the rest of the ingredients, Scout reappeared in the kitchen, freshly showered, her hair still wet.

We worked silently, me measuring out the ingredients and cracking the eggs into the bowl, and Scout mixing. Then she poured the batter into the griddle and I flipped the pancakes over when the top bubbled. I had learned that from Dad. I'm not sure we said more than a few words to each other the whole time.

Scout went to get Pony and Soda for breakfast and even with the four of us at the table, the conversation was limited to "Can I have the butter?" and the like. What the hell do you talk about at breakfast after your parents just died? Mealtimes had always been a social event at our house; now, it was just a formality, a necessary part of the routine to which we were forcing ourselves to adhere. We tried to eat, but I could see that Scout just moved stuff around on her plate, trying to make it look like she was eating.

Predictably, the doorbell rang. It was happening at least once an hour since the previous afternoon, as people heard about the accident and translated their sympathy into edible form. We were gonna need another freezer if too many more casseroles showed up. It was tedious to be the one to answer the door. I'd always thought that offering expressions of sympathy was tough; now I realized that receiving them was just as difficult and uncomfortable.

Soda was closest to the door, so he got up. I heard him talking in the living room and then he called Scout in. We had been trying to avoid making her get the door but whoever it was must have asked for her. She looked up questioningly and I nodded. She hesitantly got up and started for the living room.

She picked up her pace when she saw who it was and I recognized the other voice in the room then as Ben, effectively Scout's other half. The two of them were virtually inseparable, and I realized how much harder this must have been in his absence. His Mom and brother had taken him to Florida to visit grandparents, or something.

She came into the kitchen dragging him behind her.

Darry, It's Ben. Can I be excused?" It was extremely strange to be the one getting asked for permission to leave. Just another thing I hadn't considered. Not that it was a big deal, but the immediate transfer of duties onto my shoulder was startling to me at each instance it came up.

"OK." I was glad for her, that she had him back. "Stay in our yards." I was glad also to have her out of the house for a while. I wanted to talk to the boys about some things that she really had no need to deal with. She headed outside and Ben handed me a bag.

"It's just some snacks and stuff. My Mom figured you probably had a million casseroles." Ben's Mom was a really nice lady, a widow, and had been close with my parents. She knew the score.

"Thanks, Ben. Tell her thanks for us, please."

"I will, Darry. Take care. Bye Soda, Pony. I'm really sorry."

"Thanks, Ben," Soda said. Pony didn't say anything. For some reason I always got the impression that Pony didn't like Ben. It wasn't as obvious as the fact that Soda's friend Steve didn't like Pony, but I could tell there was no love lost between Ben and Pony. They were civil; friendly, even, but something intangible hung between them and kept them from getting too close.

"I'm glad he's back," Soda said when he had gone out the door after Scout. "She needs him right now."

"I know," I said. We finished eating in silence. Eventually I saw Scout and Ben sitting in the backyard talking. I cleared the dishes and was relieved that Pony got on them right away. I didn't feel like another power struggle. In fact I was so grateful that I offered to do the last few. He looked surprised but accepted. He went over to the couch and sat with Soda. The TV was on and they were both looking at it but there was no indication on either of their faces that they registered what they were seeing.

Scout came back in and I could feel her standing in the doorway, but I didn't look up. I just stared at the water spiraling down the sink.

"Darry, is it OK if I go over to Ben's for a while?" I guess she had taken my directions to "stay in the yard" literally. I had intended the yard to also include either of our houses. I just wanted to know where she was.

"I guess so. Be back by 2, I have to go drop off that stuff at the funeral home and go pick up Uncle Pat at the airport and I don't want to make Pony or Soda stay home alone." I thought for sure Ponyboy would hear me and put up a fuss but he didn't say a word.

"I thought you said Uncle Pat was coming alone." Scout asked me, and I didn't right away understand why she was asking.

I turned to her. "He is."

For a moment she looked utterly puzzled, then her expression fell and I realized what was confusing her. She had forgotten that we didn't have a car anymore. Just my truck.

"Oh. Right." She looked sad and I didn't know what I could say to help.

She started back to the door. "And Scout?"

"What?"

"Use your manners." That had always been our Mom's parting words to us. She would have said the same thing to us whether we were visiting the White House or visiting Dallas in jail. Our parents raised us right. I hated to say it, because I knew it would make her think of Mom annd maybe make her cry again, but I didn't want us to forget who they had raised us to be, either. She didn't turn around as she left but the words finally broke the spell of the TV as both boys looked up from the couch at me.

I finished the last dish and grabbed a dishtowel to wipe my hands. Tossing it over the faucet, I went into the living room and faced the boys on the couch.

"Listen, I have to gather up any kind of paperwork Mom and Dad had about their bank accounts, and all of that kind of stuff so I can go over it with Pat. Do you know of anywhere besides the desk they kept that stuff?" This was the aspect of guardianship that was causing me the most anxiety: the money. I had absolutely no idea what kind of shape our family was in, financially speaking. We had always been on a tight budget, but I personally had never considered us truly poor. Our parents had never talked to me about money, and I had never asked. I had my part-time job to pay for my own expenses, and Mom and Dad paid my tuition. I felt ignorant and I wanted to dig up all the paperwork before Pat arrived so I could try to make some sense of it.

"I think Mom has a box in her closet," Pony said. "Like, a file box. I know that's where our birth certificates are."

"I don't know," Soda said. This was as I had expected. Pony notices details like that; Soda doesn't.

"Can you get it for me, Pone?" Immediately after I asked I realized he might not be ready to go into their bedroom yet. I remembered how Scout had hesitated.

"I guess so," he said. I guess Pony wasn't spooked or saddened by the same things Scout and I were. He walked into the room like nothing was out of the ordinary and after a few minutes of rummaging through Mom's closet he came out with, just as he had said, a file box labeled "legal documents, etc." I was grateful for how organized our Mom had always been. Pony handed off the box to me and I carried it into the dining room and set it down on the table. I opened the desk drawers and again, most of the files were clearly labeled. The checkbook was updated to the day of my parents' death. I took all of the paperwork and spread it out on the dining room table, trying to make sense of things.

I sat there for hours looking through those papers, and in the end I felt sad that, largely, this was what my parents' lives had come down to, a stack of papers. It was all there, from their own birth certificates, to their marriage certificate, us kids' birth certificates, and finally, after I had added it to the pile, their death certificates. A perfect paper trail of who they had been. Just like at the funeral home, I felt an emotion akin to anger rising in me. They had been so much more than what lay before me on the table.

Yet I knew that the numbers on those papers were ultimately what would dictate our existence as a family from here on in. And so far I had very little idea what the numbers were saying. I felt helpless and inadequate and suddenly Patrick could not get there soon enough. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Pony head out for a smoke and the thought of it almost appealed to me. Everyone thought I had never smoked; the truth is, I had tried it a few times in high school and just couldn't get past the smell. But I could certainly have used something to help relax me right then.

I lay my head on the table, just to close my eyes for a second. Soda must have been watching me from the living room because he came over and massaged my shoulders, hard, the way he knows I like it.

"I hope I can do this, Soda," I said. "I'm gonna need your help with those two."

"You got it," Soda said. "I'm not going anywhere. Everything will work out."

Oh, how I wish I could have known that, for sure.

**A/N: I know I have been posting like a maniac lately and I apologize for inundating my subscribers' mailboxes. We are recovering from a huge ice storm up here and I haven't had to work since last Thursday! I have been manning an emergency shelter for people with no power or heat (thankfully I have both!) and have had little else to do but type away on my laptop. I hope you are enjoying!**


	10. Chapter 10

I sat at the table with my head down for a while, just letting Soda rub my back.

"All this stuff making any sense to you?" he asked.

I picked up my head and looked again at the ocean of paperwork. "Not really," I admitted, only because it was Soda and not one of the other two.

"Patrick is going to help me sort through it all."

"That's good," Soda said. I could feel him wanting to say something else, but he was hesitating. Finally he said, "I wish I could help you with this stuff, but…" There was a sadness in his voice. He knew as well as I did that math was not his thing. I felt bad that he was upset about not being able to help, though.

"It's OK, Soda. I can handle this part of things. I'm gonna need you to help with Pony. He's not gonna make this easy for me."

Soda didn't answer. I'm sure he wanted to defend him but he knew I was right.

I pushed the chair back and stood up, slapping him on the shoulder as I passed by. "Thanks for the backrub," I said.

I wandered into the kitchen and looked out the window at the backyard. Scout, Pony and Ben were all sitting around, looking miserable. Scout was reading something and I was sure it would be the obituary. Of course Pony would let her read it before anyone else. Those two may not usually get along but when it came to reading and writing they were a nearly perfect match. Damn good at both. I could match up to them academically when it came to math, science, and those subjects where there was just one right answer, but when it came to writing or drawing or being creative I was a world apart. I saw Scout say something to Pony and wipe her eyes. Ben must have asked to read it because she passed it over to him. I wished the three of them could just look like kids again.

Soda was sitting on the couch and asked me from the other room, "Are you sure you want to take Pony?" I had to stop by the funeral home again with the clothes and didn't want to bring Soda anywhere near the place, after last time.

"He'll be fine, Soda," I assured him. "He's just gonna wait in the car anyway." Seeing how Pony hadn't minded going into Mom's closet to get the paperwork made me think the funeral home might not bother him as much as it had Soda anyway.

I gathered up the clothes for the funeral home and put them into a bag. I was about to go get Pony when I heard the door slam.

"Nice, Pony," I heard Soda say.

"What?" Pony answered. "Oh. Sorry." I was sure he let the door slam on someone. He was forever doing that.

"That's why you can't get a girl, Pony, you have one right beside you and you can't even remember they're there," Soda teased. I guess it was Scout who got the door in her face.

"Shut it, Soda," he said.

"Not now, you two," I said, coming around the corner. The last thing I needed was the two of them going at it, right then. I took a good look at Ponyboy.

"Pony, brush your teeth and wash up. I don't want us picking up Uncle Pat with you smelling like a chimney and looking like a hobo."

As usual, he appeared to be considering arguing, but instead just glared and headed into the bathroom.

Scout had flopped down next to Soda on the couch.

"While we're gone, I want you two to pick up around here." Our house may not have been much, but I wanted it to look decent for Patrick. I tried to remember the last time his family had come to visit us. I think he had only two kids then, so it must have been eight or nine years ago, at least. I knew our Mom would have had the place spotless for him. I didn't have much hope that these two would manage spotless, but at the very least they could neaten up.

"Scout, you did a pretty decent job with supper last night, you think you can come up with something edible for us tonight?" There was no way I was going to ask Soda to cook.

"I guess so," she said, skeptically.

"Good. Pat and I have a lot of paperwork and stuff we need to go over, so you three are gonna have to stay out of our hair after dinner, got it?"

"Got it." The two of them could not have sounded less enthusiastic.

"Also, you need to wash whatever you're gonna be wearing tomorrow. I expect us all to look decent." Scout looked surprised at the request. I was wondering if anyone in our house had ever done the laundry besides our Mom.

"Pony, let's go," I yelled, and immediately he was at the doorway.

"You got the obituary?" I asked.

"I got it."

"All right, let's go then," I said, heading out the door ahead of him.

"We'll be back by five," I called back to the two on the couch.

_____________

We pulled into the parking lot of the funeral home and I turned to Pony.

"I'll only be gone a few minutes," I said. "I need the obituary."

He sat up in the seat and pulled it out of his back pocket, handing it across at me.

I was almost afraid to ask, but I did. "Can I read it?"

He looked down at the floor of the truck and shrugged. "I guess so," he said quietly. I knew he felt that I didn't understand his love for reading and writing; the truth is, I really admired it. He had a way of expressing himself that I couldn't even begin to emulate.

I opened the paper and read.

_Darrel Shaynne Curtis, Sr., and Mary Elisabeth (MacIntyre) Curtis, aged 40 and 38, respectively, died from injuries sustained in an automobile accident in Tulsa on October 3, 1967, their twentieth wedding anniversary. They are survived by three sons: Darrel, Jr., Sodapop, and Ponyboy, and a daughter, Samantha Scout. Mary also leaves a brother, Patrick MacIntyre, his wife Carrie, and their four children, of Galveston, Texas._

_Darrel and Mary, or "Molly," as she was known to friends and family, were born and raised in South Tulsa. They met in high school at Tulsa South High, where Darrel was an all-state athlete in football and Molly was a captain of the cheerleading squad. After high school, Darrel went on to play for the University of Tulsa as a wide receiver. After his college graduation with a degree in engineering, they were married in October, 1947. They settled down to raise their family in the same neighborhood where they had grown up. They remained devoted football fans throughout their lives._

_Darrel was employed for the past 20 years by The Southern Pacific Railroad, as a construction foreman and site manager, and most recently as a member of the engineering management division. He was a devoted family man, never missing an opportunity to support or encourage his children, be it academically, athletically, or creatively._

_Molly was a devoted mother, homemaker and wife, and was admired by all she met for her warm heart and gentle nature. She was actively involved in all of her children's activities, both academic and athletic, and made sure that her home was well-known in the neighborhood as a place of safety and acceptance. She had kind words for everyone she met and truly believed that "There are no strangers, only friends who haven't yet met."_

_They will be greatly missed by all who had the pleasure of knowing them._

Pony was still staring down. I put my hand on his shoulder and waited until he looked up. He needed to know how much I appreciated this.

"You did a real good job, Pony," I said. "None of the rest of us could have done this."

His eyes filled up and I got the distinct impression that it had more to do with me complimenting his writing than with the current situation.

"Thanks," he whispered, and as he hung his head back down I saw a tear fall onto the seat next to him. I wanted to hug him, to pull him in tight and let him cry against me, but something inside me held me back.

"I'll be right back," I said, and took the paper and the bag and brought them into the home. I was glad to see that the person who dealt with me this time was not the man from the day before, but an older, grandfatherly type who seemed to possess a full array of human emotions that the other guy had sorely lacked. After this man took the items, gathering them into his hands carefully, with the respect deserving of my parents' belongings, he put his hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eye, and with a compassion that I had thus far not experienced in the funeral business, said, simply:

"I'm really sorry about your folks, son. I truly wish the best for you and your family." Somehow it seemed to me that he knew the story, about it being me in charge now, and he felt for me.

"Thank you," I said, feeling for the first time since they died like I might have really meant it.

____________

Pony and I said little on the way to the airport. I wanted to reassure him that, despite the fact that we didn't get along, despite the fact that I knew he didn't have as much faith in me as he did Soda, that I was going to do right by him, by all of us. My brain was able to form the thoughts into words, it simply wouldn't allow them to escape from my mouth. I wondered, how is it that I can talk to Soda and Scout, but not Ponyboy? It didn't exactly help my confidence as newfound guardian to find myself completely unable to relate to one of my charges, possibly the one who would need me most.

Scout had Ben, Soda had Steve, but Pony was left with just Johnny, who, from what I could see, was generally in a position of needing comfort, rather than being able to offer it. Shit. This was going to be hard. Really hard.

"Darry?" Pony startled me. I wondered for a second if he knew what I was thinking.

"What?"

"You missed the turn." He was right, I had been thinking so hard that I had driven right by the turn for the airport. I wasn't sure if I was more relieved or disappointed that he hadn't had something more profound to say. Interacting with Pony was complicated, and, to me, at least, exhausting.

Because I had missed the turn, we were late pulling up to the terminal and Patrick was already waiting at the curb outside. I pulled up and got out, taking his suitcase and letting him encircle me in a hug. I had vowed I wouldn't cry and I didn't. I didn't want to come across to him as unable to handle things. Regardless of the stipulations of the will, I was still wary that any show of weakness or uncertainty on my part could spell disaster for our family.

"I'm so sorry, Darry," he whispered in my ear, and, like the man at the funeral home, I could tell he meant it.

"Thanks, and I'm sorry too." She had been his sister, after all.

Pony had slid out of the passenger door and was leaning up against the truck. Patrick released me and stepped around me to face him.

"Ponyboy," he said, and to my absolute surprise, Pony nearly jumped into his arms and sobbed, while Patrick soothed him, rubbing his back and trying to calm down.

I was dumbfounded. Why could I not comfort my own brother, and an uncle he sees once a year just had to say his name and he allowed himself to let go? I felt something like pain at my inability to relate to my own brother. I loved him, and I was sure he must love me; that was not the obstacle, but for the life of me I could not figure out what was, and I knew it was going to eat away at me until I figured it out.

Patrick eventually succeeded in calming him down and for the 15 minute ride home it was just an exchange of information between myself and Patrick about funeral arrangements and the church service. I don't think Pony, squeezed in between us, said a word. Patrick asked if he could read the eulogy and I was so relieved that he asked. There was no way I could maintain my stoic façade in front of a crowd of people while recounting fond memories of my parents; there was just no way.

We pulled into the driveway and I was relieved that soon I would be back with Scout and Soda, no longer trapped in the bubble of uneasiness that surrounded Pony and I whenever we were alone together. I wondered what the house would look like, and what Scout had attempted to cook.

Pony went into the house first and I had the good sense to anticipate him letting the door go, so I caught it with my arm. Scout ran over and held it open while I followed with Uncle Pat. He bent down to Scout's level and called her over.

"Scout…" he said. Even though he was my mother's brother and she had always called her Samantha, he called her Scout.

"Uncle Pat," she said, and there was virtually a repeat of the breakdown that Pony had had in his arms. This didn't bother me quite as much, because Scout would just as easily let me comfort her as Patrick. Pony would pick anyone over me, it seemed.

"Oh, Scout, I know," he said to her. "I'm so sorry." He sat with her on the couch until she calmed down.

I looked around the house. Everything was surprisingly presentable. I heard the washing machine and noticed that even the table was set. "What are you making, Scout? It smells great."

She must have forgotten about whatever she was making because she jumped up with a squeak and ran off into the kitchen.

Soda and Patrick shared the requisite hug and expression of sympathy as we all followed Scout into the kitchen in time to see her pull out some kind of chicken concoction that I remembered my Mom having made in the past.

"I think we can eat," Scout said. I found myself wishing that our parents could be there to be proud of how we had all managed to pull it together for Pat. It wasn't very often that I allowed myself the extravagance of wishing.

So I pushed that wish to the back of my mind and sat back down to the reality of what was us, now.


	11. Chapter 11

After dinner, somehow all three of the others managed to deal cooperatively with clearing the table and getting the dishes washed. I kept expecting some sort of quarrel to issue forth from the kitchen but none came. I ushered Pat into the dining room and he looked closely at the paperwork on the table. He leafed through the piles and picked up a few papers that I guess he felt were particularly important.

I just stood by nervously, randomly pressing a few keys on the piano and looking at the pictures of us all that were sitting on top. My favorite one was of the three of us boys posing with Scout just after she came home from the hospital.

We had been outside playing, Mrs. Cummings still watching us, when Mom and Dad had pulled up into the driveway. The three of us ran over, far more interested in seeing our Mom after three days away from her than examining any new sibling she might be bringing home. Dad had opened the door for her and out she had stepped, little pink bundle in hand.

"Go get your camera, Darrel," she had told my Dad. Ben's Mom had taken Scout while us boys hugged our Mom in turn.

"She's beautiful, Molly," Mrs. Cummings had said. Ben, meanwhile, was napping in a carriage in the side yard.

"OK, boys," Dad had said as he came outside, "everyone over here on the stairs, let's get a family picture,"

It had been quite an undertaking to get the three of us to stay still long enough to trust us with a newborn baby. But Mom had been determined. Finally, I sat on the middle porch step, with Soda next to me and Ponyboy standing on the step behind us. He must have been only two. Soda had begged and begged to be the one to hold the baby, but, just being four, and full of the boundless energy he had seemingly possessed since the day he was born, Mom was wary. So the compromise was that she laid Scout across both of our laps, my dad cautioning me to "Hold on tight to her, Darry, you never know what Soda might do."

Soda surprised us all by sitting still, though. Pony had leaned over to get a better look at exactly what this thing was that Mom had brought home, and there we were, frozen forever in time. I look panicked, worrying that at any second Soda was going to jump up, Soda looks exceedingly proud of getting to hold the baby, and Pony is leaning over, completely puzzled about this new pink thing occupying our laps. I must have looked at that picture a million times but this was the first time I could ever remember thinking about the day it was taken. It surprised me how clear it was in my mind.

"Why don't we go over this paperwork in the living room," Patrick said, bringing me back to the present-day, where my worries consisted of a great deal more than making sure the new baby didn't roll off my lap.

"OK," I said. I could no longer hear the others in the kitchen. I glanced out the window as I passed by and saw all three of them outside with Ben. He was smoking, which bothered me a little. Scout already had Pony around to be a bad influence; she didn't need Ben being one too. I could only remember ever seeing him smoke one other time, though; he was nothing like the human chimney Ponyboy had become.

We went into the living room and sat down, Patrick in my Dad's chair and me on the couch. He set the paperwork down, looked at me and asked,

"Are you sure you want to do all this now, Darry? I can get a later flight out tomorrow, or stay another day, if you want."

I didn't want to do it now, or ever, for that matter, but I could see no point in postponing it.

"I'm sure," I answered. "I just want to know where everything stands."

"I don't blame you," Pat replied. "That's just the way your Dad would have felt about it." He said, then, "You've grown up to be an excellent young man, Darry, and I hope you know how proud of you they both were."

"Thanks," I said. "I know." I did know. This year, especially, with me in college, they had not spared me any praise. As much as I hated hearing it from anyone else, I really hadn't minded it from them. Though I had wondered if it bothered the others, hearing Mom and Dad talk about me so much. But they praised all of us about the same, Pony and Scout for being smart and creative, and Soda just for being Soda. Me going to college had been a huge deal for them, though.

"OK, So here's how things look…" Pat started. He had made sense in a few minutes of the paperwork that I had stared at for hours that afternoon. He laid it all out for me. It seemed that our parents had some savings, and along with what we would be able to claim from Dad's pension for the kids, we should be all right for a while. I had my part time roofing job, which would help out a little. Financially, for the moment, I was relieved more than panicked. Patrick absolutely insisted on paying for the funerals, as much as I resisted, he simply would not take no for an answer.

Somehow he seemed to know all about the process of obtaining guardianship, and he gave me a phone number and a contact person that I would have to call downtown to arrange to meet and fill out all of the paperwork. When I asked how he had all this information, he just looked at me and said:

"I'm just lucky to know a lot of people in that arena, Darry. I made some phone calls," he said.

He also told me that, along with the paperwork, Social Services would want to interview me, as well as the other kids.

"Obviously, you will all want to put your best face forward," he said, which worried me.

"I thought I had the law on my side here," I said.

"You do," he agreed, "but this is not a typical situation, and they will be watching you very closely."

"That sounds ominous," I said.

"I'm not trying to scare you, Darry," he said, "but I'm not going to lie to you either. Taking on three kids is no easy chore, and they are not going to take your guardianship lightly."

"Neither am I," I said.

"I know you're not. I'm on your side, remember?"

"I know," I said. I was eternally grateful for that, too.

We went over some more of the papers, and he told me what I would need to do in order to get the accounts transferred into my name. He suggested that I add his name to the accounts too, in case anything ever happened to me, so that someone would still have access to the finances. I never would have thought of that, but then again, I was totally unprepared for any of this.

Just then, Scout, Soda and Pony appeared in the room. It was dark out and, glancing at the kitchen, I was surprised to see how late it was.

"We're gonna turn in, Dar," Soda spoke for the group. "We'll see you in the morning, Uncle Pat."

"'Night boys. 'Night, Scout," Pat said. Scout came over and climbed on his lap to hug him. It was obvious she needed to feel an adult's touch. "Thanks for coming," I heard her whisper.

"Of course," Pat said. "You know I love you guys. You get some sleep, OK? You're my girl, right?" Scout was the only girl in the whole group of cousins. Pat had all boys.

"OK," she said. I knew that no matter how late I checked on her, she would still be awake. She touched my arm as she passed by and I knew she knew how hard this all was

I was sure we would talk later.


	12. Chapter 12

Pat and I talked for another hour or so after the others went to bed. Every time I thought I had a good handle on things I'd ask him about something else, and that would just open up another whole set of issues. By the time he left I was completely exhausted, both mentally and physically.

I washed up, hoping Scout was asleep. I could hear Soda's light snoring from the boys' room, and I tried to open Scout's door as silently as possible, in the rare case that she had been able to sleep.

I stood by her bed for a second, letting my eyes adjust to the dark. At first I thought she was sleeping, because her eyes were closed. She must have thought I couldn't see her, though, because she opened her eyes and looked back up at me, clearly wide awake.

"Still awake, huh?" I sat on the edge of her bed and took her hand.

"You still scared?"

"I don't know." I could totally imagine how she felt- so exhausted and confused that she was no longer even able to identify which emotions she was feeling.

"You think you could sleep better if you come in my room?" I hated to admit it, but I think I was asking her as much because I might need it as she might. I remembered what had happened when I was left alone with my thoughts the night before, and the relief I had felt when she had held me and let me know I wasn't alone. I realized how ironic that was: me, the strongest of the bunch, and scared of nobody, afraid to be alone. I was petrified of myself.

I could see her struggling to decide how she would answer.

"I'm OK," she said, finally. "I'm just thinking too much. I'll be fine here." I knew she wanted to come in my bed, but I was proud of her for trying to be tough. On the other hand, the kid had to get some sleep.

"You gotta sleep, baby. Can you do that in here?"

"I hope so," she said.

"Look, Scout, I don't mind you coming in my room if you change your mind, OK? You don't have to sneak in." I still felt real bad that I had made my room so off-limits to her that she had to sneak in and sleep on the floor when she needed me.

"OK. Thanks, Dar. I think I'm good in here though." She was gonna be strong. Good for you, Scout, I thought. This is going to toughen us all up, like it or not, I realized.

"I'm gonna go to bed then." If she could be brave enough to lay there alone with her thoughts, I supposed I could, as well. I leaned over and kissed her forehead. "'Night Scout."

She turned over and faced the wall. "'Night Darry."

I crawled into my own bed and tried to fall asleep. In the few hours since Soda had given me a backrub, every bit of tension he had relieved had worked its way back into my body and settled at the base of my neck. I lay listening to the silence in our house and ran through all I had gone over with Patrick. I fell asleep thinking of the stack of paperwork on the dining room table that was suddenly my responsibility.

Silence still shrouded the house when I awoke, though it was after seven. I knew we had to be at the church at ten, so I forced myself to get up and start breakfast. None of us were eating much, but I think we all needed the routine of regular mealtimes. It forced us to come together at regular intervals, rather than just becoming lost in our own private worlds of sorrow. I was particularly worried about Pony; that he would just close up into himself and disappear.

I cooked some eggs and sausage and left them in the pan while I went in to shower. I peeked in at Scout and was glad to see that she was asleep, completely wrapped up in her sheets. There was no sound from the boys' room. I wanted to let them all sleep as long as possible, since I knew they had hardly slept a wink the past two nights.

When I came out of the bathroom, I was met by Ponyboy on his way in. Soda had turned on the TV and was sitting on the couch in his pajamas, waiting for his turn in the shower.

I went into my bedroom and sat on the bed, looking at my suit hanging in the closet. If I died today, that's what they'd bury me in, I thought, then immediately was disgusted with myself for thinking it. I guessed that for a while anyway, whenever I looked at a suit I would remember taking Dad's out of the closet for his burial.

Today is the day I bury my parents, I thought. I wondered if the others knew how glad I was to have them- how grateful I was that I did not have to go through this all alone. I hoped that I would remember that the next time Pony decided to challenge me on something stupid. It was easy to be grateful for them when they weren't making my life difficult.

I went back out into the kitchen and turned the burner back on to warm up the eggs and went in to wake Scout. I felt bad, she finally was sleeping and here I had to wake her up.

"Come on, Scout, you gotta get up. We have to be there at ten."

She opened her eyes and looked at the clock, then at me.

"I don't wanna do this," she said.

"None of us do, baby. But we're gonna do it, for them."

She sighed, untangled herself from the covers and stood up.

"Good girl," I said, rubbing her bedhead. "See you in a few."

About ten minutes later she appeared at the table and sat. None of us said a word. Everything about the situation was uncomfortable. The three of us boys, wearing suits, and Scout in a skirt. I noticed she still wasn't eating. She didn't look too good, actually, but then I imagined none of us did.

"Somebody's gonna have to ride over with Two-Bit," I said. Having only the truck was an inconvenience, but not one that was likely to be remedied any time soon.

"I will," Soda said. I was hoping he would volunteer. I wanted to keep an eye on the two kids.

Two-Bit and Steve came in, both wearing suits. The situation only seemed more amiss with each passing moment. Two-Bit wearing a suit. For Christ's sake.

We put the dishes in the sink. There was no way I was gonna get on Scout's case to wash them right then, though it was now her week. Soda headed out with Two-Bit.

I turned to her and Pony. "You guys ready?"

"No," Scout said, flatly. Pony didn't answer.

I took Scout's hand and led her out to the truck. She pushed Pony into the middle and I wondered if she got the same impression that I had – that if we didn't keep an eye on him, this whole situation would just bury him, and we would have to dig and dig for months to bring him to the surface again.

Soda met us at the church, as well as Patrick, and I was absolutely floored at the number of people inside. I knew our parents had been well-liked, but I would have never imagined this many people would take a day off from school or work to bid them farewell. I actually had to wipe my eyes before I started crying. I was glad to see that nobody noticed.

An usher walked us to the front of the church. Scout squeezed my hand when we passed the caskets, and I could feel her body involuntarily shaking with her tears. She sat between Patrick and me and we took turns letting her lean against us. She stood when the rest of us did but I was glad we were on either side of her, as she didn't seem too steady on her feet.

Patrick read the eulogy and it was just like something Ponyboy would have written, though Pony would never have been able to stand in front of a church full of people and read it.

The service ended and the gang and Patrick and I all stepped forward to carry the caskets to the hearses. I felt sick as I realized Scout was going to be left behind. She stood there, watching us surround the caskets, with tears streaming down her face. She looked like she actually might fall over. It was the same expression that I had seen on her that night in the hallway. I almost took my hand off my father's casket to go over to her so she wouldn't fall down.

Just then I saw Ben appear behind her, put his arms around her so she wouldn't fall, and whisper something to her. She nodded, still crying, and said something to him as she let him lead her over to his brother Kevin's car to ride over to the cemetery. I vowed never to give Scout a hard time about Ben again.

The hearses and funeral home cars got to the cemetery first and I stood by the grave with my brothers and Pat, waiting for Scout. Ben walked her up to me and I reached out for her hand. She transferred her grip from Ben to me. I tried to give him a look of appreciation, realizing if he hadn't stepped up Scout would have been left standing there at the church all alone. For some reason, right at that moment, I realized that with my Dad gone, I might someday be walking Scout down the aisle at her wedding, handing her off to someone else. I squeezed her hand and she looked up at me. She leaned up against me and I felt like if I moved she would have fallen over.

We all stepped forward as they prepared to lower the caskets. Ben's Mom had given us each a rose to place on Mom's casket, and then we each stepped around and laid a hand on Dad's. I held Scout steady as she stopped at each one and whispered: "Bye, Mom." "Bye, Daddy." I heard Soda and Pony crying too and couldn't help the tears that rose in my own throat. I just hoped the others wouldn't look up and see. I was going to have to be their rock, from now on.

We stepped back and watched as they were lowered.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.'

**A/N: So, this is where Epiphany ended, thus it is also where Epiphany Revisited must end. This has been really interesting, rewriting my own story from a different point of view. It was definitely challenging, especially keeping the same dialogue between Scout and Darry... (and not adding any additional dialogue between them either.) I am not sure yet if I will repeat the process for "Reality" - it is almost up to 40 chapters, but I have to admit, I have really liked writing Darry's POV.**

**Thanks for sticking with me on this one! Please review if you liked it, or at least review kindly if you hated it. Ha!**


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